Fallen Justice
Fallen Justice is a Raid Event scheduled to start on April 2nd, 2016 at 12:00 PM (PST) and end on April 7, 2016 at 7:59 PM (PST). It is the first episode of the Dark Stigma story and part of the Malice Canon storyline. Half-time Reward Calculation Period is from April 3rd 7:00 PM to 7:59 PM (PST). __TOC__ Feature Changes * PWR 20 UR Card as rewards for ranks 240-1600. * Rate of Hidden Bosses back to former rate. * Boss Reward Chest UR Ascentia, Weighing Honor, rerelease of a final ranking reward of the Royal Endgame Raid Event. Raid Bosses Skill Cards * Royal Executioner Rudolph (UR) Anti-Raid Boss Skill Card, obtained from the Oath of Survival Card Pack * Lorn Lady Dima (UR) Anti-Hidden Raid Boss Skill Card, obtained from the Oath of Survival Card Pack * Miranda, Mirror Gazer (UR) Anti-Secret Raid Boss Skill Card, obtained from the Oath of Survival Card Pack * Kelka the Mortal Fount (UR) Special Evolution Card blocks Bosses attacks, obtained from the Master of Fate Card Pack Story "I really didn't want to resort to this, but drastic times call for drastic measures." Your mind was lost in a murky fog. A man's voice could be heard, but you saw nothing save the unending darkness. "Sorry to be so rough, but you just had to go and pull that little stunt..." His voice continued to echo through the void. It had a warm and gentle quality, but was utterly sinister. "...And so I was left with no other choice. Don't worry; there might be some minor side effects, but you'll survive." More pressing than the identity of the voice's owner, you wondered where you were, and the realization that your eyes were closed finally dawned upon you. You were simply emerging from a dream, and its final remnants mingled with your awareness as they faded away. You opened your eyes... ...And nothingness again filled your view. You blinked once, twice, but there was no change. Yet despite the oppressive darkness, you did not feel fear... or much of anything beyond confusion. Suddenly, the man's voice returned. "I know, how about a simple question: Do you still think you're a 'Hero'?" That word jostled a faint memory from the depths of your mind. Indeed, you were a Hero. "I see. Then you have my pity." He gave a dry laughter as an odd murmur arose from some indeterminate direction. "Thgi leht wollaw skra dyam..." The irregular cadence of the ominous chant repeated without cease, the jumbled voices' timbre combining the anguish of the living and the rejoicing of the dead. "Ah, so you can hear that lovely melody, eh? It doesn't seem like you understand the language of this world, but that can be easily remedied..." At that moment, a strange flavor filled your mouth, a sweetness like that of nectar. It was the first physical sensation you felt since stirring. "There, that should do the trick." "Thgi leht... wollaw skra... dyam... May... the light..." As the chanting continued, it began to warp and contort until... "May dark swallow the light..." ...Grim meaning was revealed from the senseless noise. "All there is to do now is start the show. You've been given a new chance, free from all those sad, sad memories. And don't worry, everything's already in place for you: equipment, a job..." The voice grew increasingly distant. "And even your cute elf friend. She might be a little out of sorts since she's going through the same thing as you at the moment." A bright light filled your vision. "I just have one request for you: Show me the meaning of 'justice'..." ...... "Hey, rookie! This ain't the time to be standin' around! The main unit's bringin' in a bunch of Stigmals and I don't wanna hafta babysit ya, a'ight?" A brash voice and the odor of corpses assaulted your senses. You had woken up beneath a bivouac in a desolate village nestled within a valley. Judging by the incessant booms of explosions and the scrambling soldiers, you were in close proximity to a war zone. A dragon flew high in the smoke-filled sky, a rider tightly controlling its movements. The vague recollection of a voice addressing you in a dream nagged your mind, and you could only stare in a daze as you struggled to stimulate your memory. "Get to work, rookie! Did you forget how to pluck a Stigmal?" The same man, also a soldier, yelled at you again. You then noticed the other soldiers near you were stooped to the ground, arms up to their elbows red with blood. Their hands moved along the corpses that were being brought to the tent. They were not quite dissecting them, but were clearly removing something from the bodies... "All right, get a good look at this. Ya gotta find these Komora Stones somewhere under the skin." The man thrust a small jewel-like object up to your face. It was bright red and shaped like a small heart, throbbing faintly. "Every Stigmal's got one, usually in the back. If ya don't pluck 'em out, they won't die." Ending his explanation, he threw the Komora Stone into a nearby basket. "I tell ya, this whole world's gone nutso. Any livin' thing can turn into a Stigmal at any moment, and they'll completely lose their mind and start doin' all kinds of evil stuff, even if they were already pure evil. It's gotta be infectious..." "Stigmal" must have been the term for those who were transformed into monsters, which meant the bodies that lay before you may have been human. Feeling nauseous at the thought, you began to totter. Somehow, that sensation was familiar... "Hey, watch it! That's a bottle of Creepmud there! Get even a drop of that on ya, and you'll turn into a Stigmal yourself! Some of these monsters will start leakin' it after we take their Komora Stone out. We gotta keep it in those magic bottles to make sure it don't affect nothin'." Your mind was able to grasp very little of what he said, even going back to when he called you "Rookie." Then, all at once, your stupefaction turned to shock. You finally noticed that you were wearing the exact same uniform as the others. It appeared that you were part of their unit, but you somehow believed you were in the middle of a journey... "What's the matter, get the willies? They were only supposed to let ya into the Lightholders if ya had already killed at least one Stigmal. Didn'tcha do that by taking care of that elf girl?" Your heart stopped as a name ascended in your mind: Elimval. She had been your cheerful, irreplaceable companion as you traveled across the land. A fierce pain assaulted your head and brought you to your knees. The other soldiers looked at you with dubious eyes. The aching continued as unknown visions floated to the forefront. A sky palace. A terrified scream. Your bloodstained hands. A sorrowful wailing. A beautiful woman. Any one of those incomplete scenes could or could not have concerned Elimval. Still, you could not prevent yourself from imagining the worst: you had killed her. The pain subsided, but your breathing remained unsteady. Noting your unusual behavior, the man spoke to you again as he patted your shoulders. "This yer first time in a real battle? The contamination's been spreadin', but don't worry. The fightin's only just started in K'wyen valley, and the empire sent their best fighters here. All we gotta do is take care of these Stigmals. Then, once they've found Kelka, we can pack up and head home, once we've made a sweep of the houses around here to secure any, uh, offerings of gratitude..." The grin upon his face made his intention clear, and you were offended that one could be given over to such base proclivities as theft while representing an army. And if he exemplified the rest, you would greatly prefer being unassociated with them. However, if your memories were accurate, then you felt you did not the moral superiority to judge them. "You liars! You aren't here to kill Stigmals!" Suddenly, an unfamiliar voice rang out. A winged female figure bearing a large vase flew from the rear of the camp. "Even if some of the villagers were infected, you louts crossed the line into slaughter when you started killing innocent people!" "What, do you live in this valley too or something? Then you should know what happens when you resist the Lightholders of the empire..." The soldiers around you moved to watch the spectacle. The fairy, despite her defiance, was now trembling slightly. "You need to pass this along to your commander: Kelka has been the guardian of the Urn since she was a child, which means she has never left the temple in years! Whoever said she was a Stigmal is a phony!" "Don't blame us, we're only acting on orders. Maybe you got some traitor on your end, haha!" "How dare you!" While still holding the vase, the fairy raised her leg to kick, but it was easily caught by one of the soldiers. Everyone laughed, and one even unsheathed his blade to wave at her. The next thing you realized, you had dived through the crowd and swiped the blade away. Shielding the fairy, you thrust the weapon at the nearest soldier, who happened to be the one who had spoken to you before. "What's gotten into ya...?!" Unwilling to listen, you stepped closer and pressed the tip against his nose. "A-are ya a turncoat? Tryin' to make an enemy of the Lightholders? We got over two thousand soldiers here, and a dragon. Whatdya think ya can accomplish by yerself? Maybe... you've become a Stigmal?" You said nothing in response, for your entire mind was devoted to planning your next move. "Wow, I'm glad there's someone here with some sense..." The fairy piped up from behind you. "My name's Clichy, and I serve Kelka, guardian of the Urn. Please, you need to help her and the valley. She should be hiding somewhere in the underground temple, but I'm afraid these brutes will get to her first. I know the way, but I don't think they're going to let me off..." You listened to her plea while retaining your gaze upon the man. Your arm held the sword firm and steady, as unwavering as your will. Yet regardless of the faith you held in your ideals, you felt the hazy memories contained hints of a painful past, one that involved the killing of an ally... As you were mired in thought, the man suddenly gave a strange grunt as an arrow appeared in his forehead, causing him to fall over backwards. You looked behind you to see an unknown man standing on a support for an adjacent tent, gripping a bow. "Someone named Elimval asked me to find you and give you a hand. I told her I would, but only if you were gonna save this valley from these frauds. What do you say?" The archer's words filled you with joy and relief, but before you could reply, panicked shouts rose around you. "We're under attack! The Stigmals are here!" You had been branded as a Stigmal, prompting calls for reinforcement. Rather than argue against their accusation, you decided to resist through force. With the capable-looking man by your side, you believed you could overcome the crisis, and so you signaled your agreement to him. "That's what I wanted to hear. Now I don't have to give a refund. Anyway, we need to do something about that dragon first of all." With a bold smile, he pulled another arrow from his quiver and fired it into the air. It struck the rider atop the dragon, and he fell to his doom as the crowd gasped in awe. Free from control, the dragon then turned towards the camp, breathing a stream of fire. "Retreat! Retreat!" Amidst the chaos, you grabbed Clichy and ran towards the silver-haired man. Though a number of soldiers thought to stop you, you swiftly foiled their designs with a few well-placed strokes of your blade. You knew not where you were or why you were present, and the mysterious visions relentlessly plagued your mind. However, you could do nothing but run forward, trusting in your own morality. Epilogue "They've got a steady flow of oil hooked up to that one." Salvador directed your attention to the dragon spewing streams of flame in the distant sky. Peering closely, you could see tube-like objects leading to its jaws that connected to the harness. He shook his head disapprovingly. "That's how they force 'em to breathe fire on command." It had ignited a number of houses in the village, further thickening the smoke of the apocalyptic scene. However, such damage would be insignificant compared to the calamity that would occur if you did not reach the Urn of K'wyen and its protector Kelka before the Lightholders did. "Hold on a moment, I'm gonna take down that little pyromaniac first." Salvador grasped an arrow and readied his bow, aiming not at the dragon, but the rider. It was apparent he held an affinity for the scaled creatures... "This isn't the time for that, Salvador! We're still being pursued!" Elimval spoke in panic. Although your vision was obscured, you could hear the clatter of boots through the din. More Lightholders were approaching. Their vast numbers meant that no matter how far you ran or how many you defeated, there were more closeby. Their goal was to exterminate the twisted Stigmals, and due to your simple act of defiance, they were convinced that you were one as well, "And we're almost at the temple! There should be an entrance hidden at the back of that large sanctuary, so we just need to reach it!" Clichy chimed in, also urging the archer onward. From her pitiably blue face, she was clearly concerned for her master. "Just gimme a minute!" Salvador held the bowstring taut as the soldiers' shouts became audible. It seemed they had spotted you and were assembling their comrades. Compounding upon the dilemma, both you and Elimval were still suffering from amnesia. You last recalled traversing the cavern of a volcano, but only disorganized fragments remained of all else that had occurred. Fortunately, your previous assumption of Elimval's death was a mere misinterpretation. However, that did not explain who the other woman in your memories was and why you felt great pain whenever her face appeared. As she once again drifted to the front of your mind, strength drained from your legs. "Are you okay, Hero?! Salvador, we need to keep going! ...They're almost here!" "I know! Shut up!" He shouted in frustration but kept his bow steady, determined to free the dragon from the rider's control. Yet before he could release the bowstring, a rope suddenly seized one of his arms. "Wha...!?" From its faint shimmer, it was evidently fortified with magic. It seemed the Lightholders were fully prepared to handle any sort of threat. "Let... go!" Salvador's struggling was to no avail as the rope tightened its grip. "H-Hero!" Elimval pleaded with her eyes, as did Clichy, and so you gripped the hilt of your sword, but your legs still would not move. The distressing images weighed upon you as a sharp pain pulsed along your spine. Gritting your teeth, you forced yourself upright, but your vision blurred. An unfamiliar emotion welled up within you -- rage. It was not directed at the circumstances, but at your own weakness. Even if you had committed a horrible act, there was no reason why you should deny yourself redemption. You allowed that anger at your quailing heart to overtake your pain. "Hero?!" Elimval's voice was muffled by your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Steadying your weak legs through sheer force of will, you approached Salvador. He had meanwhile grasped the rope with his free hand and attempted to drag the captor beyond the smoke towards him. But as you reached him, another thread appeared and coiled itself around your arm. It cut into your skin, forcing blood through the incisions. Regardless, you did not feel the pain as you also pulled on the other end in silent determination. After a few moments, a pair of war mages appeared through the haze. They had apparently not suspected that their captives would be able to overpower them, for their hands were shaking as they desperately clutched the other ends of the ropes. Finally, one of them looked up and noticed your face. "You... You're not... the archer..." Seizing the opportunity presented by their stunned reaction, you leapt up and struck out with the sword in your unrestrained hand, wounding them both. Freed from their release, Salvador rubbed his sore arm as he muttered in surprise at your display. "Whoa..." Then, hearing the dragon roar in the smoke-filled skies above, you flung your sword towards it with incredible speed. After a moment, two objects fell to the ground: your sword, and the rider with a large gash on his forearm. Another, more distant roar, told you the liberated dragon was departing from the battle scene. The archer then stared at you with incredulous eyes. "Do you got any brains in that head of yours?" "How can you say that to the one who just saved you?!" "I know, I know..." After readjusting his equipment and retrieving his bow, he cast a look at your bloody arm. "But your Hero is still crazy." He then tossed a vial of salve to you and wordlessly continued towards the sanctuary. ...... "Eeek! Wh-what's this about?!" Elimval leapt in fright when she saw a fence of spears driven into the ground. Even at the sanctuary, it appeared there was strife. "No... these are the spears of the valley's warriors." Clichy furrowed her brows as she inspected the insignia at the base of a shaft. Just then, the doors opened and several men emerged, all bearing similar spears and stern faces. At their head was a slight, aged man. "Clichy... So you're still alive." "Elder! Thank goodness you're safe!" "Yes, thank the goddess. And now that we have assembled a modest force of our own, we will soon hurry to Lady Kelka's side. Will you do the same?" "Of course! But first, let me introduce you to my friends! They're the ones who helped me here..." "Clichy, step away from them at once." The man's sharp gaze fell upon you. You could see wariness clouding his stern eyes. "What are you talking about, Elder? They're our allies!" "Then why is that one wearing the garb of a Lightholder?" "Well, it's a long story... but they definitely weren't on their side... I think..." "Then could you allow me to check behind your ears?" "Behind our ears?" Elimval's eyes grew wide as she repeated the question. Salvador, who was scowling at the elder, explained. "What, you don't know about Stigmas? Each and every Stigmal's got one just behind an ear. Looks sort of like a figure-eight. He wants to see if we have 'em or not." "What?! But just the fact that we haven't lost our minds should be proof that we aren't!" The chief responded to Elimval's irritation. "Elf maiden, the extent of the darkness' influence varies from being to being. Some do not transform until several days after the crest appears." "Oh, i-is that so? Well, I suppose there's no other choice..." Elimval swept aside her long hair as she turned her head, but Salvador was less compliant. "Uh-uh, nothin' doin'." "But Salvador, otherwise they won't allow us to help protect Kelka!" "So what? Seems like she's already got a bunch of loyal lapdogs right here anyway." The chief turned his attention to Salvador. "...I don't recognize you either... Who are you, and why are you here?" "What's it to you, pruneface? That kinda info's only for willing customers, so you better loosen those purse strings first." At once, the men flanking the elder pointed their spears at him and shouted with rage. "How dare you take that tone with the Elder!" "Check his ears! There's no doubt he's a Stigmal!" Salvador's eyes were indifferent, but his tightening grip around his bow did not escape your notice. You stepped between the two parties, with your back to him. "...So you would defend that uncouth man? Perhaps you truly are Stigmals." As the elder beheld you with suspicion, Salvador asked you a question. "Hey, why are you going so far for someone you don't even know?" You did not know the answer, but you knew that deep within your heart, you were given a mission you needed to complete at any cost, and the discord would only prove to be a hindrance. Unsatisfied with your silence, Salvador spoke again. "Whatever, I'm getting outta here. I don't care if I only got the advance, lady, but I'm not taking one step into that place with those uptight bozos." You could sense his presence fading as he said his farewell. You did not know where he intended to go from here, but it was of little pertinence. Furthermore, you believed the threat would be reduced to a level you could handle on your own once you entered the temple. Even if you lost an ally, you needed to move forward. ...... "The fountainhead is at the hub of the temple." The elder led the way, his torch casting a flickering light against the walls. It appeared you were travelling along the outer edge of the temple, which was in poor repair. In addition to the uneven footing, a stream of cold air flowed continuously from the front. "Please be careful, Hero." Elimval spoke in a voice barely perceptible to you. The spearmen followed close behind, their weapons trained upon the two of you at all times. Although they had checked your ears to see no Stigma, they retained their overbearing vigilance despite Clichy's protests. However, it did not seem you would need to bear their watch for long. The distinct smell of a clean waterfall grew stronger and the path was more maintained, leading you to believe you would reach Kelka shortly. "The shabby entrance is a ploy to fool the more weak-minded scallywags into thinking they mistakenly entered some abandoned shrine. From here on is the true temple of K'wyen." The Urn of K'wyen had provided water to countless creatures and was worshiped since ancient times. It was also purportedly responsible for carving out the caverns beneath the land. Therefore, word of the guardian of such an important artifact becoming corrupted would naturally mobilize the empire's forces. "This temple was constructed by our ancestors. It was specially created so that it would spread the water as far as possible and form a number of underground aquifers." The elder spoke with pride, describing in detail the magical seals that regulated the water's flow, powered by the daily prayers of the Urn's guardian. "Yes, it's a very nice temple, but it seems rather lonely. Is Kelka usually by herself?" Elimval asked a question to Clichy. "That's right. This shrine is like her house, and she has lived here nearly her entire life, all without speaking a word..." "At all? Does she have no one to talk to?" "She has us fairies to offer her help, but she never speaks to us. That's because she took a vow of silence." Clichy explained that the guardians of the Urn were selected among those born of a chosen bloodline. From that moment, they were required to swear an oath of eternal silence and could consume nothing but the fountain's water in a bonding ritual with the Urn. That granted them the magic energy which they could transfer to the control circles. They were also responsible for the shrine's sanctity, and should some unclean being reach the inner chamber, they would have to sacrifice themselves to purify the waters once more. "Although Kelka can't talk, I have a special power that can let me read Kelka's mind. In fact, she's the reason I even exist at all." The guardian was permitted to give shape to the fountain's energy and create aides that provided help and companionship. By filling a tiny container with its water and casting a spell, the next day, a water fairy will emerge from the mouth. They would then carry around the container from which they were born, flying to and from the shrine. They lived so long as water remained in their vessel. "Before, one of the fairies accidentally spilled the water from her vase and she vanished... I could tell that Kelka was hurt by the loss, and she always frets about the same thing happening again." Then, Clichy's eyes began to moisten. "Plus, even when she's busy with her own tasks, she will still take the time to clean with us... She's just far too nice and understanding. I've never sensed she felt upset with living down here." At that, the elder interjected. "The protector of the Urn is a prestigious position. I should hope she isn't." The fairy bit her lips in annoyance while you looked around the halls. The construction was indeed rather splendid, but you imagined that being forced to live in such a gloomy environment would be distressing. "But if this place is so important, why isn't it more well known? I don't think even the Hero has heard of K'wyen." Elimval cocked her head in confusion, but the elder gave an exasperated sigh. "Spare your jesting. This is the source of water for the entire north region of the empire. Even people in the most distant villages know of our valley." "...And I've been meaning to ask for a while, but what empire are the Lightholders from, exactly?" Elimval produced a map from her belongings and brought it close to the torchlight. "Can you please point out its location on Neotellus?" "Why, the empire covers the whole of the planet. ...Hmm, this is a rather unusual map. It's certainly Neotellus, but I don't see the Four Void Stars or High Emperor Ildanev's name anywhere. What I do see are completely foreign terms and places... "Void Stars? Ildanev? We've never..." Before she could finish her sentence, a great rumbling shook the tunnel followed the sound of a stampede. The elder quickly extinguished the torch and shouts rang out through the darkness. "Don't bother trying to navigate this maze! Take this place apart brick by brick until you find her!" "We need light! Find the war mages and tell them to bring their light rods!" "Are you sure this is the temple?" "Yeah, that Stigmal guardian's in here somewhere!" It was the Lightholders. Unable to locate the hidden entrance, they had apparently excavated a new path. You moved the elder behind you not a moment too soon before a blinding light appeared. "...It's you again!" When your eyes adjusted to the brightness, you saw that it was the dagger-wielding woman from before. She was seemingly a high-ranking commander, for there were a company of soldiers behind her. One of them was holding a scepter with a shining tip, the source of the dazzling illumination. The woman had been the first to discern that you were not a Stigmal, although she yet regarded you as a sympathizer. "You worthless traitor! Do you think your actions are just?!" With those words, she lifted her arms and poised to charge as the edges of her daggers glinted menacingly. You made to parry her attack, but beyond her, you saw one of the soldiers, one of short stature, unsheathe a blade and imitate her stance. Realizing you could not parry both attacks, your mind raced for a solution to protect the elder behind you when... "Urgh!" The foot soldier gave a grunt and crumpled to his knees, and you heard the clattering of metal, but it was not that of his sword. An object rolled to your feet -- a vase spilling water onto the stone floors. When you understood its significance, a chill bolted through your spine. "Please, save Kelka..." When you turned towards the thin voice, you saw a pale Clichy in Elimval's arms. Her hands were already beginning to fade away. "Hero, Clichy is...!" Tears streamed down Elimval's face as the fairy's figure continued to vanish. "What is happening...?" The woman frowned and the soldiers murmured in bewilderment. In the next few seconds, Clichy had disappeared without a trace, and both you and Elimval stared in shock at the empty space in her arms. Suddenly, from far away, a voice returned you to your senses. "I've found Kelka! Over here!" It was the worst possible outcome. ...... Your legs pumped as fast as they could. Your heart felt it was about to burst. Your breathing was labored and ragged. A faraway pulse reverberated through the hall, the commander and her soldiers marching in response to news of Kelka's discovery. You had to reach the temple's guardian first at all costs, so you hurried alone down the shortcut the elder mentioned. Turning around a bend, the path suddenly opened up to reveal the spacious center chamber. The Lightholders' absence gave you a modicum of relief, but beneath the Urn of K'wyeh, there was a chilling sight. Under the endless flow of pristine water, you saw a woman garbed in elaborate raiment gripping both a sword and a body of a soldier, his skin the ashen color of death. You had fulfilled Clichy's dying request in finding Kelka, but the Urn's guardian had already fallen to evil. Before you could respond, the elder, Elimval, and the others caught up with you. "You certainly have the speed of youth, I must say! And it seems the Lightholders are still lost in the passageways. That should provide us an advan..." Elimval, her keen senses aware that something was amiss, interrupted the elder's rambling. "Hero, is she...?!" Her words directed the others' attention to the pool and their bodies instinctively tensed. Kelka, smiling with narrowed eyes, slowly and deliberately opened her mouth. Her voice was thin, one that had not been heard in years. "How are you, Elder?" The elder fell to his knees, his shivering legs unable to support him. "Kelka... spoke...? Impossible..." "No, it is very possible. I am no longer bound to the oath... for I cannot die. Hmhmhm... hahahaaaaa!" Kelka had sworn a solemn oath of silence when she assumed the role of the Urn's protector and breaking it was punishable by death. However, if she so openly defied it, then there was only one answer: she was now a Stigmal. "No! This cannot be! The Urn has fallen into the grasp of evil!" The elder buried his head into his hands as Kelka's piercing laugh continued. She released the corpse in her embrace and it sunk into the blue. "Hahahahaha! And if I no longer need to be silent, then no longer will I allow myself to be confined to this accursed temple!" "How could this happen? We must pluck her at once... No, what if Creepmud then contaminates the water?!" "Oh, how I've missed the sound of my voice. I thought I could go the rest of my life without uttering another word, but that was until I found something worth declaring: 'May dark swallow the light'!" The dignified defender of the Urn now merrily splashed in the waters beneath the torrent, cackling as she relished in her newfound freedom. "Please, save Kelka..." Clichy's final request echoed in your ears. Mortified at your failure, strength drained from your body. "Hero, something is happening!" Elimval spoke as suddenly the flow of water from the Urn increased. The churning white froth quickly raised the level of the pool, spilling out across the floor. The elder and the other men's faces turned pale. "Kelka! How could you release the restraints on the Urn?! Stop this at once!" "Elder, if the water won't stop, the valley will...!" "We need to get out of here first before we drown! Hurry!" The rumbling caused the elaborately carved ceiling to loosen from the soil above. Kelka's unceasing laugh echoed as the rubble accumulated, releasing her pent-up anguish and grief. "Hero, we need to evacuate!" Elimval tugged on your arm, but you stood affixed to the floor, gaze locked upon the swimming Kelka. Your eyes met for a brief moment before she quickly submerged herself in the water. As she surfaced, she licked her glossy lips, the expression upon her face clearly inhuman. "Hero! If we don't leave now, we might not make it!" Perhaps due to Elimval's urging, you suddenly recalled the words of the commander from before. "Do you think your actions are just?!" And then Salvador's... "Hey, why are you going so far for someone you don't even know?" It was then that you understood why you had truly come to save Kelka. More than anything else, you wanted to prove those horrifying memories were false. You were not a heartless murderer, but an exemplar of virtue -- a Hero. ...... "Oh, how could this happen to K'wyen? Our beautiful water..." The elder sighed into the fog. Where there was once a valley there was now a lake turbid with sediment. The sun had appeared over the horizon, giving rise to a thick mist. The only land could be found on interspersed islands that were formerly peaks. You had narrowly escaped after a frantic effort, protecting Elimval and the others through the collapsing temple. However, the Stigma-branded Kelka had not been spotted. On the largest of the newly formed islands, you could faintly see the Lightholder encampment. Though you felt their invasion had helped in prematurely evacuating the villagers, thus sparing their lives, they likely lost a considerable portion of their force. At the moment, they were busying themselves, either in rescue procedures, or... "The Lightholders won't rest until they find Kelka. And if they manage to do that and pluck her Komora Stone, the water will become contaminated should any Creepmud emerge..." The elder's theory was plausible, yet Kelka was not the lone Stigmal. The Creepmud could come from any of the afflicted villagers or a wayward vial from the Lightholders. The consequences held the potential to be catastrophic, as everyone exposed to the tainted water would become a Stigmal. In comparison, the soil-filled water was a temporary bother. You swallowed hard and stared into the cloudy lake, briefly considering the notion of helping the Lightholders in their search of the bottom until reinforcements arrived. "What... is that? I-it can't be..." The elder's wavering voice drew your attention away from your reflection. It was not the emergence of Kelka, but the appearance of two figures from the direction of the sun. Through the fog, you could see two black shadows descending. "Why do they have to appear now, of all times?" The elder and his men quivered in horror as the two shadows revealed themselves to be two women, as identical as twins. They gravely flew upon creatures with twisted wings. "Who are they?" The elder chided Elimval in a subdued voice. "Silence! They are the soothsayers Enkeed and Nikeed. None know of their origins, but their words are never mistaken." If that was true, then you understood their anxiety, but it was brief as the agonizing memories returned. The bout was mercifully shorter, and you were able to look up to see the pair lower to inches above the lake surface. Although their eyes were concealed, you could fell their gaze boring into you. "...You who have invited darkness into this world, do you faint understand the extent of your reprehensible actions?" "The spread of chaos was initiated through the passing of the goddess of harmony, Belgantier, from this world. But her death was not an accident." Enkeed and Nikeed spoke in turns, their dire vibrato sending faint ripples across the lake. "The one who murdered the goddess..." They simultaneously raised their fingers to point at the warrior who always strove to fight for justice: You. All at once, gasps of shock and shouts of anger rang out. "Y-you're the one who caused all this?!" "Why would you do such a thing?!" "...I know what happened now. You were the one who turned Kelka into a Stigmal! In that brief moment you were alone with her, you tainted her with Creepmud!" "What are you talking about? The Hero would never so such a thing!" "Still your tongue, elf! Enkeed and Nikeed have spoken, and they are never mistaken! ...Ye gods, what have I done? I led this foul villain directly to Kelka..." "Don't blame yourself, Elder! This is all the fault of this so-called 'Hero'! Death is too good for them!" The villagers unleashed their bile towards you, and Elimval, her tear-stained face red with indignation, objected as best as she could. "Enough with this nonsense! The Hero is not the kind of person who would do that!" Despite her efforts, you could not even offer to wipe away her tears. The memories had returned once more, and this time a scorching pain assaulted your heart and suppressed your lungs. It was so unbearable that you scratched at your chest so hard that the cloth of your tunic tore away. "...Hero..." Elimval's voice cracked as the villagers fell into silence. All eyes were fixated upon the exposed skin just above your ribcage. The quiet was broken when the elder let out a strained cry. "It's a Stigmal!" There was a deep incision upon your chest. The skin around it was bruised and swollen, the inflammation pushing the blood vessels against the skin. However, it was the incision that was most horrifying, for it was in the shape of two interlinked circles. The Stigma of evil. You collapsed, overwhelmed by the shock and your preexisting shortness of breath. Elimval, sobbing loudly, shielded your body with hers, and the elder raised his voice. "Elf, your 'Hero' is now a Stigmal! That mark has made it clear beyond all doubt! Get away at once! It's for your own good!" "No! I refuse!" "Elder, this is too much for us to handle! We should call over the Lightholders!" "Yes, a wise suggestion. Let us do so without delay!" "You will do no such thing; the Hero is not a Stigmal! Would they have tried to save you from the temple if they were?!" "Sorry, but we will no longer be fooled by your deception. Ah, it seems the sun is evaporating the fog! We should be able to attract the Lightholders' attention from here." "Heeeeey, come quick! We've caught a Stigmal!" "You heard Enkeed and Nikeed too, right? They're the cause of all this!" As the pain swelled, you gripped Elimval's hand. If nothing else, you hoped to spare her from whatever fate awaited you. Furthermore, it was too late to ask the seers for a detailed explanation, for they had vanished with the mist. You stared over at the Lightholders' camp. It seemed they had noticed the villagers and were preparing to deploy a unit to "pluck" you. You presumed that your time was short, but as the ache in your chest proved that your grim memories were true, you were convinced you were deserving. Both your hope and your stamina exhausted, you slumped to the ground. "Hero! Hero..." Elimval's frantic voice grew faint. Even keeping your eyes open was a monumental task. You did not want to die, at least not without discovering Belgantier's identity or who it was that you killed, but the situation seemed bleak. At that moment, the last of the fog was cleared by a refreshing breeze and a shadow blocked out the sunlight. "Guess I was right about you not have any brains." A large dragon descended from above, presumably the one with the tubes of oil attached to it, as the familiar voice of its rider addressed you. "Hurry up and get on. We're already fugitives, but by now we're probably on the empire's most-wanted list." "Y-you're the archer from before! How could you help this Stigmal?!" "The Hero is not a Stigmal and we'll prove it to you! Salvador, can you please...?" "On it." Paying no mind to the villagers, Salvador landed the dragon beside you. "Did you not hear the words of Enkeed and Nikeed? They killed..." "Yeah, I heard." "So why are you helping them?!" He ignored the elder's bellowing as he hoisted your limp body aboard the dragon. Elimval climbed on as well and helped you remain steady. Finally, after taking the reins once more, he replied to the question. "Because they helped this dragon, and that's good enough for me." The dragon then flapped its mighty wings and ascended into the air. ...... Far above the submerged valley flew a dragon and its riders: a mercenary archer, a young elf maiden, and an ailing warrior with the Stigma plain upon their breast. Laying on your back, your mind was vacant as you watched the endless blue. The sun hung high in the firmament, the same as ever. However, it was flanked by four stars that somehow shone with an eerie darkness, a phenomenon never before witnessed. It was then you finally arrived at the inevitable conclusion... You were no longer on Neotellus. Chapters/Quests * Energy Raid Bosses Rewards Daily Ranking= |-|Half-Time= |-|Final rankings= |-|Raid Boss Repels= |-|Guild Ranking= |-|Guild Repels= Category:Raid Events Category:Fallen Justice Category:Malice Canon